


Feeling You Stay For

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Red Pants, Red thong, Vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants John to wear this red thong under his clothes out to dinner or on a case: the twist: it has a tiny vibrating patch on the front, and Sherlock has the remote that activates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling You Stay For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valeria2067](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/gifts).



> A gift for Valeria for Red [Thong]Pants Monday.

“It’s for an experiment, John.” The reason was always the same, though usually Sherlock was explaining away something he was doing to himself, not something Sherlock was trying to get him to do. 

“It’s a thong, Sherlock.” John waited a moment, two, clutching the fabric tightly. “And we’re due at Scotland Yard to help Lestrade with a case.”

Sherlock sighed, putting down his cup of tea as he turned back to face John. “Yes. We are. And that’s the point. They say people’s confidence levels are influenced by their undergarments, and I want to see how your interactions change based on them.”

“That’s- that’s it?”

Sherlock nodded. “Is it so wrong of me to suggest it? Besides, I have plans for you in those after…”

John’s face flushed. “R-right.” he stammered. He still wasn’t used to this side of Sherlock. The side that was always so open about his ideas for their sex life, just like he was about most everything else. “I’ll go. Get dressed, then.” He left the room, only topping at the doorway to glance back for a moment, to see Sherlock still sipping tea. Diabolical plans were in store for him, he was sure of it.

\- - -

The meetings were boring. Dull. Even Greg and John admitted that, quietly, to each other, while Sherlock was out of earshot. The case was convoluted, yes, but it was all a bureaucracy of connections Red tape littering the proverbial scene. Really, they both considered it miraculous that Sherlock was still here, trudging through the muck surrounding the case as though it wasn’t mind-numbingly dull. Neither had any idea why he was still working on it.

Neither, that is, until John discovered what it was. It was a rude realization having silk vibrating against his crotch, teasing the very tip of his cock. That was unexpected. More than unexpected. It was exciting and stimulating and far far out of place. “Fucking Sherlock.” he murmured, hand covering his face as he felt his cheeks heat up. He was only glad it was extremely quiet for a vibrator, and that he was seated at the time Sherlock decided to activate it.

“What?” Greg looked at him with confusion. “You remember somethin at home he left on the counter or somethin?”

John gave half a laugh, trying his best to compose himself as he tried to gently adjust himself in the cursed garment. “Yeah, something like that. His crazy experiments, you know?” 

Greg nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Look, I’ll go get you a cuppa. Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t do anything too crazy?”

John nodded as Greg left, sighing with relief when the vibrations stopped, though he sent a glare in Sherlock’s direction. The detective appeared to be completely absorbed by his work, though John didn’t believe it for a second. He had come to realize that Sherlock was never completely absorbed by anything, and those times when it seemed his focus was absolute were the times when his mind was rushing off on an unrelated tangent. Lately, this led to more than a few days where Sherlock strapped him to the bed to try out different ways of fucking him. Today, though, it seemed the goal was slightly different. John wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Greg’s return brought blessed tea, and the return of the vibrations in his pants, only, somehow, more concentrated as if Sherlock’s fingers were expertly pressing just the tip of a vibrator against his prick. It was all John could do to keep a straight face, particularly when it also brought the culmination of Sherlock’s opinion on the case. The facts listed off in his baritone, the words rolling off his tongue and down the slope to John’s ears, losing their meaning along the way. When Sherlock moved to stand behind his chair, hands resting his hands on John’s shoulders, John knew he was fucked. Or, soon would be. Probably in a supply closet in the hall, on the way to the back entrance they usually used. The fingers on his shoulder tightened their grip, and he knew that would indeed be his fate.

All thanks to a red thong, and a wicked mastermind of a boyfriend.


End file.
